At this very moment.

I have dreams occasionally, in which I have lost the ability to think. I try to think, and I can't. Really, it's more like a nightmare. Rather than a dream. It's scary. And I assume I'm dreaming that I have Alzheimer's. And now, when I have such an uneasy fantasy, I better understand how someone with Alzheimer's can get a sense of relief. By telling 'em to try to focus on one thought. The present. The now. And not worry about the past or the future. To just relish the moment. To be aware that one is alive. At this very moment. Enjoy the pleasure of the moment. That's what I instinctively told Jeanne daily in the last three years of her life. In the late throes of Alzheimers. And that seemed to give Jeanne reassurance. Seemed to put her at peace. At ease. Jeanne was aware that I was with her. Caring. At the moment. And that's all that mattered. She didn't have to worry about the past or the future. Maybe I was combing her hair. Giving her a shower. Or a body massage. Or hand-feeding her food or drink. Or playing soothing music. Or giving her a ride outdoors in a wheelchair. Or telling her that I love her. Totally. Completely. At this very moment. --Jim Broede